Number 121212022012
by The-First-Step
Summary: "What's your name?" Roused at last by the anger in his voice the pitiful woman looked up, her gaunt face seemingly made up by her enormous cerulean eyes. "No 121212022012." She said and his golden eyes widened slightly. "Your real name." He asked but she shook her head. "I had a name once, a long time ago." The woman murmured almost to herself. "I was called Belle." Rumbelle AU


**Chapter 1**

**I decided to go with a gut feeling and create another Rumbelle fic, what can I say I just love the damn things. In my opinion Rumple and Belle are the greatest couple in OuaT, hands down. Their love is real and it's bloody complicated, which is refreshing if not slightly annoying. I do feel however that a lot of their issues would be resolved if they got more screen-time *cough-cough* Anyway, this particular plot just came to me, maybe because I love this period and maybe because it's the holidays, I have no idea but please let me know what you think. And the key to this is:**

_Italics- French_

_**Italics bold- German**_

**Translations will be at the end for those who really want to know what they are saying. **

Gaston POV:

From behind an unread newspaper a man watched avidly as an olive green door opened on other side of the street, revealing a beautiful young woman in a knee-length blue skirt, an earthy-coloured waist-coat and white short-sleeved blouse. As always, the sight of Belle French robbed Gaston of breath. He momentarily forgot himself and stared unabashedly as an angel alighted the small porch outside her house and smiled up into the cerulean sky. She was a breathtaking creature, possessing a tumbling shower of russet curls which framed a pretty face that seemed almost entirely made up of dreamy aquamarine eyes. Her frame was willowy, curves covered demurely by the plain cotton she wore but discernible to the careful eye. Over the crook of her elbow a large wicker basket hung, its contents concealed by a cloth. She smiled brightly as someone spoke inside the house and turned part way to called behind herself. Even from across the road Gaston could make out the words.

"_Je sors, Papa_." She said, her thick, unfamiliar accent marring the French words. His lip curled disgustedly at her use of the subordinate language. Why on earth would she use French when German was so obviously superior?

"_Je reviens bientôt." _He saw her mouth and her whole face glowed as her father called to her from within the quaint little house. She smiled, rolling her blue eyes fondly and reached just inside the door to pull a navy blue pea-coat on over her dress. Gaston frowned at the sky blue sky. Why on earth would she need that? She stepped out onto the porch and carefully pulled the green door shut, moving down the few stairs and out onto the busy sidewalk. This was Gaston's cue. Placing the unread newspaper down he stood and moved out from behind the wrought iron table. Scowling blackly at an approaching waiter, he merely flashed the small revolver on his belt at the manager and strode out of the small café without a backwards look. The portly man simply saluted and turned to berate a passing waitress, eager to be through with business he obviously wanted no part in. Gaston smirked. There were obvious benefits of being a member of the _Gestapo _even if he had no idea why he was following Belle. It had simply been an assignment handed to him by a tight lipped superior and, although not the smartest fellow by any means, Gaston knew that questions were an unhealthy habit to indulge in times like these. Keeping twenty or so paces behind the russet-haired woman he watched in a mixture of amusement and disapproval as she removed a small, rather battered looking book from the depths of the basket over her arm and buried her nose into the pages. It was positively unseemly for the woman to be reading in public, in such a manner as she was. He scowled as she stepped lightly out of the way of an oncoming cart, moving gracefully without once looking up from the depths of her novel. His breath caught sharply in his throat as he saw a large hole laying directly in her path. Just as she approached a piece of timber fell from where in leant against a nearby window pane. The rotund owner shouted angrily as the lazing workmen but thankfully it neither struck her nor caused a problem. Indeed it neatly covered just enough space for her to traverse the ditch in relative safety. Amazingly, not once had she emerged from the pages of her book. When she had moved on from the obvious danger Gaston let out the breath he'd been holding and saw he wasn't the only person watching her. Two ancient biddies stood by a market stall and bent their heads together as soon as Belle passed them.

"That Belle, always with her head on a cloud. It's not decent." The fatter woman draped in black remarked to her neighbour, a rather horse faced lady who nodded amiably.

"She'd be beautiful if she bothered. My niece Emelda went to the same finishing school you know, she said that French was always going on about some confounded political movement or another, dreaming of travelling the world or speaking about the plight of those Jews. Not only is it dangerous but downright unfeminine, she never went to any of the balls." Horse-woman said snidely but quietly, looking over her shoulder and thankfully not seeing Gaston as he passed. The other woman clucked disapprovingly.

"She'll never get a husband." She agreed and the two turned back to the coffees as he moved out of earshot. Gaston was shocked to his core. Belle. Supporting the Jews. The very pieces of human refuse he'd been charged with tracking down. Everyone knew they were to blame for Germany's troubles, everyone. His stomach turned unpleasantly at the thought of her actually helping the very monster's that had brought down his beloved Germany. Another unpleasant thought came as he quickly connected the dots. Tracing the Frenchs had been his mission; and the reason was now growing clear. They obviously harboured unacceptable sympathies, if these rumours were true. He hoped to God it was rumour only, but for rumour to have sparked the _Gestapo's_ interest he very much doubted it. Worry washed over him, mixed with some disgust. A strange sense of protectiveness settled over him as he moved after the beautiful woman expertly weaving her way through the crowded sidewalks. He would talk to her, try to get her to forget her foolish ways and thus move suspicion elsewhere. She would see reason, she would have to. Any other option was suicidal. Nodding firmly he tried to skirt around a ragged beggar-woman, who staggered into his path. Her filthy fingers gripped at his sleeves, leaving dirty trails on the clean cloth, and her grimy, toothless face turned to him in a mocking grimace as she simpered into his face despairingly. The sight sickened him to the core.

"A spare coin for a loyal servant of the state?" She said pitifully and he scowled.

"_**Gegangen du dreckige Weibchen sein!"**_ He shouted and swung his arm, catching her frail chest and sending her reeling. Her heel caught in the gutter behind her and she stumbled back, falling on her arse in the mud of the road. A series of dreadful coughs wracked her thin chest, echoing throughout the street as she convulsed on the ground. He shuddered, drawing away. People moving by averted their eyes from the scene but Gaston was frozen to the spot as the wretch wheezed together enough breath to speak, her glowing black eyes taking in his uniform, as she stood shakily. Thin tendrils of oily hair drifted past her gaunt face and her thin lips drew back in a haughty sneer of disdain.

"Very well then, a good life to you sir." She said jeeringly and turned her bony back to him, shuffling off into the swimming crowds. About to call after her for her insolence Gaston trailed off as he looked around for his quarry, growling in frustration when he saw that Belle had escaped, her willowy frame melting away into the people around him and disappearing from sight. He could see no hide nor hair of her and shouted angrily for people to move out of his way. He marched angrily through the rapidly parting avenue of people and his desperate eyes glanced around anxiously for the girl. If he didn't find her, he'd be in for his own comeuppances and they'd be infinitely worse than anything the Frenchs were apparently worthy of attracting. Gritting his teeth Gaston began to run, desperation giving his feet wings.

Belle POV:

Belle laughed uneasily as she watched the young man run past the mouth of the alleyway in which she sheltered. She quickly pressed herself as closely as she could against the stone wall at her back, mouthing a quick prayer that he was angry enough to miss the most obvious of places. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears and peered to see he had disappeared, letting out a shaky breath. Offering silent thanks to Bette, she cautiously stuck her head out of the alleyway and searched through the surging crowds. Gaston's dark head disappeared into the swarm and she grinned as he began to run. Tucking the book carefully back into its basket she pulled the deep hood of her pea coat up over her head and turned tail, delving deeper into the back-streets of Berlin. Now the most dangerous part of her mission began. Her shoes clicked and slid on grimy cobbles and soon she was semi-lost in the twisting maze of warren-like streets and lanes. Hollow-eyed children peered out from sagging doorways and old pensioners eyed her wearily as she passed but Belle pressed on hurriedly. She drew the cowl of her hood further down her face, shielding herself as much as possible. It wouldn't bode well to be identified. Only a bit further and she could breathe a bit easier. Finally she came to a small doorway where four short vertical lines of blue chalk had been drawn on the wood over the threshold. It was the signal, locating the people she needed. She knocked three times and waited. A hoarse voice called out to her.

"Such horrid weather we're having lately." It was husky and low, but there was a definite feminine inflection from behind the door. Belle pressed close and whispered through the keyhole.

"Indeed, enough to wear a navy coat." She answered quietly and the door was opened the merest sliver. Belle stood silently as the person inside took in her attire then stood aside to let her through. Belle worked her way inside and the door was quickly closed behind her with a sharp click. Still in pitch darkness she was suddenly wrapped in warm arms and the thick smell of roasting chestnuts filled her nose. She sighed and embraced the stocky woman before her. In the dimness, Belle could only make out the shape of her companion but the warmth in the woman's tone and her soft Polish accent instantly identified Maria Luftwich.

"Belle, it is good to see you." Her hostess said softly and a light was quickly lit, revealing a squat kitchen and three other people. In the corner of the room a lean, white-haired man grinned weakly at her, holding a miner's lantern in his trembling hand, and a pair of wide eyed children peered at her from behind Maria's thick skirts. Belle smiled at them kindly. They eyed her warily and the little girl, a picture of amber eyes and gap teeth, blushed. Even after a few visits the children were wary about her, but Belle could not blame them after the terrors they had been through.

"Were you followed?" Petru asked and Belle nodded.

"I was at first but Bette helped." She said and the old pair laughed.

"That old wretch." Maria murmured fondly and Belle grinned, moving forward to place her basket on the table. The children crowded in behind her to peer excitedly into the container as she pulled the cloth back to reveal her ill-gotten goods. Three apples, a loaf of bread and a small book peered out at the small group from the depths of the wicker container. No meat this time, Belle noted with a grimace. A small bottle of milk clinked and she pulled the precious contents from the basket to lay them out on the worn bench. Petru gasped and moved forward, his weathered fingertips caressing the book as though it were priceless gold. And to him, Belle supposed, it was.

"The torah." He breathed and picked up the fragile book reverently. Belle smiled, blinking back the tears that suddenly threatened to spill over. Maria moved to her husband's side and stared at the book in quiet astonishment. When they looked up at her, Belle could see tears were trailing down both their faces.

"How?" Maria asked and Belle shrugged.

"It's not important. What is important is that I could give you some measure of comfort since I could not get much this week. I hope I have done enough." She said softly and the old couple nodded, Petru cradling the book against his chest like a lost child.

"You have done more for us than we can ever repay Belle." Maria murmured and grasped Belle's hands between her stocky ones. She peered up into Belle's face and pulled the entrapped fingers to her lips. Drawing Belle's face down she pressed both cheeks with kisses, a movement that was repeated by Petru. Belle swallowed thickly. A sound made them turn. The little ones had grasped the apples hungrily in the adults absence but after a sharp word from Maria quickly replaced the fruits with sullen glances. Belle grinned. Kneeling down she reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a white silk ribbon, which she placed gently into the little girl's warm palm. From her other pocket she pulled out three slightly bent metal jacks, handing them to the solemn-faced boy by her side. He clasped the small toys tightly in his pale fist and his wide brown eyes bespoke his gratitude. The humble presents caused their tiny faces to come alive and they pressed kisses to Belle's face, thanking her silently. Belle smiled and rocked back on her heels.

"I shall return soon, I will have your papers then." Belle said as she stood slowly, turning to face Maria and Petru. The older couple nodded fervently, taking the small bundle of items from the table and hiding them away in the otherwise empty cupboards. Belle moved to the door and paused.

"_Rester en sécurité mes amis. _Trust no-one and keep indoors unless it is paramount." She warned and they nodded eagerly. She raised her hood once more and carefully opened the door. Cautiously she peered in each direction, glancing about the empty street before moving quickly outside and darting away through the twisting laneways. This time she moved with languid ease, melding her way back into the crowd and lowering her hood casually. A few moments later she moved into her favourite shop, a bookstore run by an elderly gentlemen whose wife had passed away some months ago. It was her favourite place in all the world. The bell tinkled overhead and she raised her hand in silent greeting as the bespectacled man looked up from his stack of ledgers.

"_**Guten Tag Belle."**_ He said amusedly and she grinned.

"_**Guten Tag Hans."**_ She greeted and moved further into the small shop. It smelled wonderful, of new paper and glue, wrapped in leather and dust. She sneezed and Hans chuckled.

"Back again I see." He teased and she shrugged, pirouetting slowly to peer around the shelves.

"Oh you know me Hans, I simply can't stay away from you for too long. You're simply too handsome." She teased, winking at him flirtatiously. He chuckled and went back to his work, grumbling quietly as she browsed the shelves. Picking out a few favourites she moved to the counter and he glanced up.

"Another week of borrowing then?" He asked and she nodded, holding out her card and the few pennies she scraped from her work in a nearby café. He perused her titles with only the tiniest of surprised looks.

"Still the best way to do things." She replied candidly and he nodded idly, punching her card and tipping the money into his till.

"_**Achten Belle." **_Hans said quietly as she tucked the books away into her basket. She paused and nodded slowly, deciding to simply note the quiet tone of warning in his voice. She looked up at swallowed hard. He knew. It didn't surprise her, he noticed more than most, but it seemed he was either with her or impartial to what was going on. Either way she would do well to mind herself from now on. Hoping her smile hadn't stiffened too much, Belle backed away from the counter and turned to leave the shop. Only to run face first into a man's chest. Stumbling back she slipped on the smooth timber floor and would have fallen if the man hadn't reached out and caught her by her elbows.

"_**Sind Sie in Ordnung Frauline?"**_ A familiar voice asked and Belle looked up to see a pair of bright blue eyes staring down into hers. The eyes were attached to a rather handsome set of features but unfortunately for Gaston Doffledunst, he was _Gestapo_ and even if Belle had been drawn in by his looks his obvious loyalty to a bunch of bullying chauvinists proved he was not worth a single minute more of her time than was strictly necessary. Unfortunately for her he had different ideas. The firm grip on her arm tightened as she stared at him.

"_**Guten Tag Gaston."**_ She murmured politely and gently tried to tug her arm from his grasp. The fingers only clenched further and she frowned, wincing as they bit slightly into her flesh. She tugged again.

"Thank you for catching me but I must be going, Papa will be waiting for me." She said softly but firmly, moving towards the door but failing to take even a step when Gaston's arm barred her way.

"Excuse me." She said politely but Gaston moved closer instead.

"Where have you been off to Belle?" He asked quietly and Belle raised her chin defiantly.

"Oh, here and there." She replied, purposely off-hand. A slight cough made them both look up to see Hans staring pointedly at them from behind his desk. Gaston looked down at their joined limbs and removed his hand from her arm gently. She tucked it against her chest and tried to pretend it didn't ache slightly. Gaston covered his lack of manners with an easy smile, which would have been dashing if Belle hadn't seen the flash of anger in his steel blue eyes.

"Is that so?" He asked icily and she nodded tightly.

"Of course, or would you take me for a liar and have me thrown into prison?" She challenged testily, glad to see him wince.

"Never, but I must speak with you… in private." He added when she stared pointedly at him. Rolling her eyes she smiled at Hans gratefully. He watched them warily as they left the shop, Belle trying to placate him with her eyes until she was out of sight and it couldn't have mattered if she did. Belle scowled when Gaston immediately clutched her arm and dragged her through the crowd into a small alcove. Embarrassed at the public display of machismo she wrenched herself away, smoothing her blue skirt and straightening her waistcoat angrily.

"What is the meaning of this Gaston? I will not tolerate you dragging me about like some common criminal, I have done nothing wrong and I demand an explanation for your man-handling." She ordered tersely and raised her chin when he scowled.

"I have to talk to you." He repeated solidly and she folded her arms across her chest.

"So talk." She ordered and he sighed.

"You need to be careful Belle, pull your head out of the clouds and come to the realisation that the world is a lot bigger than you can possibly imagine. Times are changing, there are rumours floating around and you would do well to stay clear of them." He said and Belle sneered.

"What? Are you following me Gaston?" She demanded and smirked when he blushed. Snorting in disgust she went to move around him but his caught her wrist in a rather painful grip. She gasped and tried to take back her hand.

"Listen Belle, if you don't stop making trouble for yourself, you're going to dig yourself a hole even I can't get you out of." He said and she tore her hand away violently.

"The day I want your help, hell will have frozen over Gaston Doffledunst." She snarled and he went white as a sheet.

"You don't know what you're saying Belle." He murmured weakly and she sneered into his handsome face.

"Yes I do. Do you think I could possibly want to be in your company, knowing what _**barbaren**_ you carouse yourself around? You and your friends make me sick." She snapped and spun on her heel with every intention to storm away, only to be gripped from behind by a pair of steel-like hands. Gaston forcibly turned her to face him and she shrank back at the pure fury of his gaze.

"They're watching you Belle, you and your father are in a lot of trouble. I suggest you keep your pretty head down and your loud mouth shut unless you want the retribution of a lifetime." He snarled furiously and Belle went rigid with fear. The vice on her shoulders was agonising and he was trembling in fury. Distantly she knew that unless she calmed the situation he would do something drastic, maybe even hit her. Plastering a fake smile to her face she reached up and cupped his cheek tenderly.

"Of course Gaston, you are right. I forget myself sometimes, forgive me will you?" She asked softly and breathed deeply when the anger faded from his eyes. They even gentled somewhat and she relaxed when his grip on her shoulders eased. She was sure there would be bruises. He smiled and rubbed her cheek tenderly.

"I just don't want anything to happen to you Belle." He said softly and she smiled placatingly.

"It won't, I promise." She said confidently and he nodded. Watching for any signs of danger Belle backed away slowly, keeping the timid mask on her face, and was relieved when he didn't follow. She turned away and tried to walk casually into the street.

"_**Guten Tag Gaston."**_ She called politely and hurried off before he could speak. Her stomach heaved as she fought her way through the throng, unable to breath as she barrelled through the suffocating crowd. It was with great relief when she spotted her familiar front door. Running up the stairs she unlocked the front door rapidly and rushed inside, slamming the green door closed and leaning against it. Her shoulders shook as the shock finally washed over her and she swallowed furiously as the tears running down her faces threatened to turn into loud sobs. From the living room she could hear her Papa, listening to the radio by the sounds of it, and knew it would only worry him more if he heard her crying. Wiping away the droplets on her cheeks she hung up her coat hurriedly and called out to him.

"_Bon après-midi Papa."_ She said as cheerfully as she could muster and heard him move towards the door. She barrelled past him determinedly and made for the stairs with all possible speed.

"_Belle? Belle! Ce que ça va?"_ He called and she nodded.

"_Oui_ _Papa_." She said brokenly and continued on until she was in the landing and out of sight. Moving quickly she opened the door to her room and shoved it close, depositing her basket atop a pile of laundry on a chair and sinking face first onto her bed. The soft pillows covered the sounds of her sobs and she wept for a good ten minutes. After she'd cried heartily she drew back and shook herself resolutely.

"Don't be so cowardly." She remonstrated bitterly and sat up to wipe her eyes and take a few deep breaths. When she was calm again she stood and moved to remove her books from their basket. Although plainly covered by different coloured felt, each book was actually concealed within the bindings of another more socially acceptable novel. Opening these covers carefully Belle smiled at the revealed titles. There were four in all and some were, as a challenge, in different languages. She prided herself on being fluent in three and passable in another. Two of her books were in German but one was in French and another in English. The English novel was The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien, the French; Le Fantôme de l'Opéra and the two German, Im Westen nichts Neues and Der Weg zurück by Erich Maria Remarque. She was fascinated by them and often wondered how Hans had not yet been arrested for them, indeed more people were disappearing for less every day and the books by Remarque alone would be enough to send her to prison for a short stint. At the very least they would be burnt. She scowled at the thought of her beloved books being burnt like common firewood because of close-minded prejudice and human stupidity. She held the four books close to her breast and sighed wearily. It was a knife edge she chose to walk every day but not a single hour went by that she regretted. Her mother, Mathilde, had often said that when one did the brave thing, bravery would follow and as of late Belle had been doing a fair few brave things. Brave being by far the kindest possible word for stupid. She dabbled in politically motivated pamphlets, she garnered food and passage for hiding Jews and she openly berated _Gestapo_ officers, she was definitely walking a knife edge. Sighing loudly again she quickly hid the forbidden books under the loose board of her wardrobe and tried to repair the damage done by her tears. After splashing cold water on her face and running a brush through her unruly curls she straightened her clothes and went down to fix her family some dinner.

Maurice POV:

Maurice French often wondered if he did the right thing letting Belle wander as she did. Not only did it gather attention that was socially unfortunate, it gave rise to the expansion of her impassioned ideology. Maurice loved his daughter dearly, she was his sole reason for living after all, and he believed her intentions were well meant but they were also incredibly dangerous. She was young, only 19, and naïve; which also worried him greatly. She still believed she could make a difference in this psychotic world. Granted, he still had his old resistance contacts from the Great War, contacts which she now used to find goods and passage for her Jewish clients. But those were hazardous in themselves and he often wished she were married, just to see her time filled with something other than her political ideals. Children would distract her from the harsh realities of life. He often wondered if her mother's death had destroyed Belle's chances at successfully integrating into society. Where most women seemed entirely preoccupied with the thought of attracting the young soldiers lying about town, Belle was more often than not skulking the local bookstores and running errands for the French Spy Networks. Perhaps he had encouraged the wrong behaviours. Maybe he should have pushed her towards tea parties rather than libraries as a child. Perhaps those dresses had been the better choice rather than the countless puzzles or code breaking contraptions he'd given her. And maybe, just maybe, he should have taken her out of Europe liked he'd promised Mathilde and never looked back. He worried now but there was nothing he could do. She was no child and she no longer lived in a world that was entirely safe, sooner or later she would have to have made a choice and, like the intelligent woman she was, she had taken the initiative and driven hard for her own agenda. He was proud of her but also worried at the future she was digging herself into, one very much like his own. She could end up dead, or worse. Maurice shook himself from his morbid thoughts and watched her over the table, frowning when he noticed the red around her eyes. So she had been crying.

"Did anything happen today?" He asked guardedly and she looked up briefly. She shook her head and returned to stabbing moodily at her food.

"Belle, you know you can tell me anything." He said pointedly and she nodded. After a tense silence she sighed heavily and gave up on eating, sitting back in her chair and tugging on a stray curl by her right ear. It was an endearing habit she'd developed as a child and it reinforced the feeling that she was more than a little upset.

"Papa, do you think I'm odd?" She asked quietly and Maurice's eyes shot to his hairline. It was certainly not the question he'd been expecting from his usually confident daughter but he went with it anyway.

"No Belle. You are without a doubt unique but that does not mean you are odd." He said honestly and she smiled weakly.

"Thank you Papa." She said and he smiled.

"I think the neighbour's windows are broken again." She said softly and Maurice paused, the glass of wine he'd been about to drink halfway to his lips. He carefully took a sip and sighed.

"Well then, we must be careful not to upset them. Let's keep the noise to a minimum." He said and she nodded. The code was simple, depending on how you used it. It was a trusted resistance technique and Belle had started incorporating it in more and more of her everyday conversation as time went on and she delved further and further into the old networks. The word neighbour implied the _Gestapo_, the so called state security police force. Broken windows meant someone was watching, broken drains meant someone was listening. Something so simple it could be overlooked, yet easily pulled out in everyday conversation. Mice meant that either of these things were being sorted out by the resistance. Rats even more obvious.

"Have you checked for rats?" He asked and Belle shook her head.

"What about mice? You'll want to get onto those before the neighbours come around." He said firmly and she sighed heavily, her russet head nodding tiredly.

"I'll talk to someone tomorrow." She said wearily and they shared a meaningful look over the table. Maurice watched as Belle determinedly picked up a piece of chicken and stuffed it into her mouth, chewing it forcefully enough to break a tooth.

Belle POV:

The next day Belle rolled out of bed slowly. Her shoulders ached and she knew without looking that they were bruised. Groaning she tried to collect her thoughts. Today she would make her way to Granny Lucas' Café and try to get in touch with the "kite agents" Snow White and Prince Charming, to deal with the obvious problem of the _Gestapo _on her tail. The infamous agents were her direct link with the French Resistance and under their respective code names had helped her deal with several problems in the process of the assisting renegade Jews into hiding. It would be dangerous enough trying to get Maria and her family out of Germany without the added risk of a tail from the _Gestapo_, so Belle had no choice but to try and sort the mess out before she got the Luftwiches out of the country. It was her only option but it smelled three ways to Sunday of desperation. It was problematic and offended her sense of professionalism. She also had the distinct feeling that she was being forced into it, by Gaston or the situation she didn't know, but she couldn't let Maria down and she sure as hell wasn't going to let the Nazi's scare her into cowardice. The Lucas' ran an underground network for the resistance, right in the heart of Berlin, and only a select number of individuals even knew of its existence. Granny's granddaughter known only as Red, had eyes and ears all over Berlin and Archie Hopper, the Jiminy Cricket, was an Englishman with connections in the Berlin/American office. He worked the political ends of their agendas and was often the way Belle got many of her clients travel papers legalised, or at least passably legalised. Everyone worked on codename basis only, she herself was known only as Agent Rose. It was safer that way in case any of them got caught. Too many people had already been compromised. Too many secrets had been spilled and too many names revealed under torture for security to be relaxed. And so it was that the resistance finally decided to work on codenames only. Belle shook herself and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She'd slept awfully, her dreams plagued by grasping hands and fiendish laughing, but it was a new day and she had too many things to do. Stubbornly she hauled herself out of bed and dressed quickly, stripping off her camisole and pulling on a brassiere, stockings and plain blue dress. It had a keyhole neck line, white collar and it's simple sleeves trailed to her wrists. She carefully buttoned each tiny knob along her spine and tied the thin belt around her waist, tucking the cotton dress snugly about her waist. Her feet were quickly shoved into a pair of black, sturdy shoes and her hair pulled halfway up with a plain blue ribbon. She turned to survey herself in the thin mirror on her wardrobe and nodded, satisfied with her appearance. Perfectly plain, enough to blend in just about anywhere. Making her way downstairs she paused in the kitchen to steal a piece of her father's toast from his grasp and pressed a fond kiss to his cheek when he started. He scowled playfully at her and his hand whipped out to catch her on the behind. She shrieked and danced away, giggling as he rolled his eyes.

"_Prendre soin de vous." _He said softly and she nodded, biting into the barely buttered toast with a grunt of distaste. He chuckled. It was a rare sound and Belle cherished it quietly. Her father had aged over the last three years, the strain of her mother's death and the war had taken their toll on his health, reducing him to a mere shadow of what he had been. The Maurice French of her childhood had been a hulking bear of a man, with a strong grip and an easy laugh, but now he seemed wane and watchful, his once thick brown hair tinged with grey and his face lined with worry. Belle knew most could be connected with her and her life choicest but if she had to choose between her beloved Papa's comfort and her conscious, her conscious would win every time. Blowing him a kiss she trooped into the hall and grabbed her navy coloured pea coat on the fly as she threw the door open and burst into the world outside. The sky was a glorious blue and the street bursting with life, people were everywhere and the sounds of everyday normality soothed her soul like nothing else. With an easy smile Belle closed the door behind her and trapezed down the few steps to the street and began to waltz dreamily down the sidewalk, drawing many bemused looks and even a few laughs. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a dark haired man, not Gaston she noted idly, stand up from a nearby café and follow her. She tossed her hair and smiled brightly. As she passed another bistro the familiar sound of an accordion and violin made her grin. Two peddlers, not gypsies of course, were playing on the sidewalk and a few brave couples were dancing. All in all, it looked like fun… and the perfect opportunity. She hoisted her skirts slightly and moved towards the small group. A young man, his hands shoved in his pockets and a shy look to his face, was leaning not far from the dancing couples. Belle grinned. Moving towards him she grasped his arm and laughed when he looked nothing short of startled.

"_**Tanz mit mir Herr."**_She cried and he shrugged, moving to take her waist as they threw themselves into the dance. She laughed joyously and spun gracefully around her partner, calling for others to join in. As she did so, the musicians starting playing a _**zwiefacher**_ melody and Belle's shouts for more dancers was quickly followed as more and more couples eagerly joined in with the familiar steps. Belle laughed as her partner spun her about with great skill and took the time to gaze about for her follower. He was standing about the edges of the circle of onlookers, his eyes fixed on her and she grinned as though decided to change partners. She whispered to her partner. He complied and took her towards the musicians. She whispered her request to the pair and they grinned as she dumped a handful of her coins into their open hats. Nodding to her they continued to play the _**zweifacher**_ melody and Belle pressed a kiss to her partner's cheek before whispering her goodbye. He looked disappointed but nodded graciously and even deposited her before the man. She grasped the man's arm and, ignoring the feeling of disgust welling inside her, dragged him into the midst of the dancers. He struggled at first but eventually realised, as she had predicted, that he was obviously still keeping an eye on her and let himself be lolled into the dance. She grinned up at him and even managed to tug a smile from his stern lips. It was a shame really, for she did love to dance, but she also needed to get going. As she passed the musicians she gave them a nod. The music slowly melded into a newer one, a more complex weaving dance that required a pass-the-partner manoeuvre that Belle knew she'd only have one shot at getting right. Casually she guided her partner into the centre and out again, bowing and waltzing past him several times before he guided her into the arms of the man beside him. She repeated the sequence of steps before slipping away into the arms of the next man. Feeling her original partner's eyes on her back she quickly delved into the dance with renewed vigour and, as the girls traversed the cleared space she ducked beneath her newer partner's arms, momentarily moving out of sight, and ducked into the surrounding crowd. Quick as a flash she ducked down and burrowed through the throng, keeping her head down and moving quickly through the ranks until they cleared. When she was through she slowed down to a casual walk and raised her hood… just as a group of blue clad novices moved out of St Martha's cathedral. Each, unlike the real sisters wore light blue dresses and navy blue wipples over her hair, almost identical to the outfit Belle now wore. There had been a reason she'd worn her light blue dress today, with its similar shade and her navy blue pea coat. From a distance Belle now appeared to belong to the sacred congregation that took it's early morning walks along the river bank and right into the street that housed Granny's Café. Every day, right on the dot at 9:15am, the novices, escorted by their stern faced matron, walked demurely through the streets of Berlin and, luckily enough for Belle, allowed her easy passage away from her now hopefully confused follower. Fighting the urge to laugh Belle ducked her face to the ground and melted into the gaggle of young women, moving in sync with them as they ambled breezily through the streets.

"Belle?" A quiet whisper caught her attention and Belle looked sideways to see a familiar face peeking out at her from beneath a navy blue wipple. Astrid Penroth had gone to school with Belle but upon her 'calling', had departed the school and taken up residence in St Martha's. Belle presumed there was more to it than that, but she never pried and had remain on pretty good terms with Astrid even though the pair hadn't actually spoken in over two years. It was a shock to see her but a pleasant one. She was a lovely soul and Belle smiled easily as she moved closer to her old school mate.

"Astrid." She murmured quietly and fought the urge to giggle when the novice looked horrified.

"What do you think you are doing?" She demanded quietly, trying to appear serene and avoid her matron's glare while obvious berating Belle for her obvious broach of divinity.

"Buying some time." Belle said as the gaggle moved into the appropriate street and Belle grinned.

"Thanks for your help." She said teasingly and lowered her coat's hood to step away from the group and walk casually to the side of the avenue. She breezed along the walkway, enjoying the gentle sunshine flickering upon her face through the blooming maple trees until she spotted Granny's tell-tale red storefront and waltzed inside. The small bistro appeared almost Parisienne in style, with graceful wrought iron trellis, orderly hedges and the thick aroma of coffee and pastry floating in the warm air but the thick German oak beams, whitewashed plaster and generous flows of ale coming from the bar area created a mixed atmosphere of gentle French charm and hearty German cheer. Belle smiled, gazing around the beloved café before moving to the counter through the thick throng of people and rapping on the wooden counter. A curvy brunette, with a figure-hugging red dress looked up from where she manned the till and grinned, showing a dazzling array of glittering teeth.

"_**Guten Tag Rose."**_ She called and Belle smiled.

"_**Guten Tag Red."**_ Belle replied and waited patiently as Red finished with her patron. When she was done the young brunette moved over and leaned over the counter, the movement causing her low lying neckline to plunge even further and make many a male patron gape. Belle smirked and shook her head. Red was a notorious flirt but she would never take half of these men on. Marriage was as sacred to Red as St Martha's was to Astrid. It was an endearing quality that almost didn't fit with her vivacious personality but it was the sign of a trustworthy person and despite the fact that Belle didn't even know her real name, Red was the closest thing to a sister she'd ever have. The pair smiled at each other until Belle felt her grin slip off her face.

"I need help." She said softly and Red's smile also faded.

"What's broken?" She asked and Belle licked her lips.

"The windows. Neighbours will be coming over next and I wanted to get the mice sorted out before that happens." She said and Red's chin notched slightly.

"A wolf always hunts alone." She said and Belle leaned in close.

"And best by full moon's light." Belle replied, letting her friend know she had not been compromised. If there had been a breach in security Belle would let slip that it was a new moon's light that best guided a wolf. A new moon was the darkest point in a monthly cycle, making its metaphor obvious, whereas the full moon provided the most light during a monthly cycle and was therefore the signal of security. Satisfied the pair eyed each other with relief. With a swift nod, Red cocked her head to a spare table pressed to the side of the room. It was shoved against the creamy wall and lit by a single sconce, with enough seats for two people. Belle made her way over to it and sat down, picking up the awaiting menu and perusing it half-heartedly. She sat idly for about half an hour and almost jumped when a woman suddenly sat down opposite her.

"A wolf always hunts alone." Belle murmured and the beautiful short-haired woman smiled slightly.

"And best by a full moon's light." She said just as softly, taking the glass of water on the table before her and raising it to her lips. Belle sighed with relief and sipped her own water.

"Red tells me there's a problem." Snow White murmured and Belle nodded.

"Broken windows. I need them to be fixed before the end of the week. I have four parcels waiting at the post office and I can't risk the neighbour's finding out." She said and Snow's brilliant green eyes widened in horror.

"Four." She gasped and Belle nodded.

"Two vintage and two fragile." She said and took another sip of water.

"_Merde." _Snow muttered, her alabaster cheeks losing whatever colour they had ever held. Belle could just about see her mind reeling. She swallowed and looked up from where she'd been studying the table cloth.

"I'll talk to Jiminy, worst case scenario you'll have to postpone the date until next week. Come to Granny's tomorrow, Red will give you confirmation for a go ahead and a set of instructions or tell you to abort until next week." Snow said quickly and Belle nodded. Grasping the woman's hand she squeezed gently and watched as she stood. The usually graceful brunette swayed drunkenly and Belle's eyes widened in surprise at the slight bulge at her mid-drift. That was definitely new.

"Congratulations." She said excitedly and the other woman turned with a joyous smile.

"Thanks. It's a girl, I just know it." She said confidently and Belle stood to wrap her arms around Snow. The two women embraced tightly and drew back to smile like the idiots they were.

"Tell Prince Charming to watch himself or I'll be having words with him." Belle warned and Snow chuckled.

"Right." She teased and kissed Belle's cheeks airily before waltzing out of the door with the next breeze. Suddenly cold, Belle wrapped her arms and tried to ignore the prickle on the back of her neck. There was a pit of worry at the base of her stomach that refused to leave and she wondered if it was because of the current situation or for some unknown reason she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Translations:

_French_

_Je sors, Papa- I'm going out Papa._

_Je reviens bientôt- I'll be back later_

_Rester en sécurité mes amis- keep safe my friends_

_Bon après-midi Papa- Good afternoon Papa_

_Ce que ça va?- Are you alright/well?_

_Prendre soin de vous- Take care of yourself_

_Merde- shit_

_**German**_

_**Gegangen du dreckige Weibchen sein- be gone you filthy bitch**_

_**Guten Tag- Good day/afternoon**_

_**Achten- be careful/wary**_

_**Sind Sie in Ordnung Frauline?- are you alright Miss?**_

_**Barbaren- barbarians**_

_**Tanz mit mir Herr- dance with me sir**_

_**Zwiefacher- two beats (dance)**_

_**Just a note, I am only learning with these languages so if I offend or get something wrong, please feel free to let me know. **_

**So let me know what you think. Worth the effort or not? I hope you liked it though, if you didn't please tell me too, though please be nice since its hardly appropriate to flame. Love to all. **


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